Poems of Lighthouse Bob

Apathy #274



Apathy

I watch the cold cold morning break
across my window sill
Where frost and fog, now, rain awakes
the scent of winter's chill
Comforter and close quarters
preserve me warm and snug
Why shouldn't I be satisfied
so wrapped up like a bug?
Should Tidal Wave or Sudden Grave
engulf me in despair?
For how could I but hope to save
just one strand of their hair?
It's not I lack compassion for
the many souls who've died
I think, perhaps, it's simply more
today -- I'll stay inside.

Lighthouse Bob




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Apathy #274

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